


the arms of the ocean are carrying me

by mambo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Mermaids, Sailor AU, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:36:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mambo/pseuds/mambo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a merperson kisses a human they can breathe underwater for a time.</p><p>When Steve realizes who this merman is he wants to stay forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a Tumblr prompt, but I liked it a lot so I decided to post it separate from my big bunch 'o Tumblr prompts. The initial request was "“Ok, so you panicked and kissed the human so he wouldn’t drown, but we can’t keep him and he can’t leave if he knows about us merpeople, so what are we going to do” au."

Steve gasps, expecting water to flood his lungs, but finding air. He takes a few quick breaths, eyes still closed.

Maybe he didn’t fall off the ship. Maybe he didn’t drown.

But when he opens them, he sees water. He feels sand and seaweed beneath his bare feet, and the push and pull of the water around him. Light filters in from above, and when Steve looks up, he can’t even tell where the surface of the water is. He swallows hard, then panics, expecting water.

Instead, he breathes in, breathes out. Breathes in, breaths out. He tries one more time as an experiment: he sucks in a large breath, then breathes it out. But how?

There’s sudden movement around him, and Steve can see the tail-end of a creature. “Wait!” he cries, feeling both surprised that he can speak at all, but stupid for trying to talk to a fish.

But the fish pauses. It doesn’t turn back, but it stops.

“Please,” Steve says. “How do I get back to the surface?”

Steve thinks of his crew, of his life on the shore. He thinks of his small house on a cliff looking over the Atlantic and the fish markets in New York. He’s always loved standing next to the sea, sailing on it. But it’s cold and dark, and Steve has a life of live on the shore.

The creature doesn’t move.

“I need to go back,” Steve says, voice breaking.

There’s a flash of movement, and moments later a man hovers in front of Steve. He’s beautiful — his skin pearlescent and white, the formerly chilling shadows of the water drift across his skin like they’re dancing. He looks at Steve with crystal-like blue eyes, light and clear, especially against the murky water. His pink lips look plush and his long dark hair floats around his head in slithering tendrils, soft-looking even in the water. He is undoubtedly the most beautiful person Steve has ever seen.

He is also battered. Long slashing scars slide across his chest and torso, white bite marks stand out against his already pale skin. But what makes Steve’s breath stop is how, below his navel, a tail begins.

Like the rest of the man, the tail is beautiful. Its sparkling scales look like obsidian, glistening silver as he swishes it back and forth gently, keeping him floating and upright.

When Steve looks back up, the man’s face is blank. He expects the man to say something, to give him directions back above, but he says nothing.

“Hello,” Steve says, feeling intimidated, awkward. He feels like he did as a child, small and sick, looking up at silver skyscrapers feeling outmatched, but ready to fight. Now he’s large and looking at this man, this beautiful man, with the same kind of awe and terror.

“Who are you?” the man asks in a scratchy baritone.

“Steve,” Steve says. “Steve Rogers.”

The man cocks his head. “Your name sounds familiar.” There’s something familiar about the man’s voice, something in the lilting accent that seems out of place in the man’s demeanor, something that feels like home.

“I’ve never been below the surface before.” He pauses, then adds, “Not this far below. I’ve been swimming a number of times.” He smiles, hoping the man understands the joke.

If he does, the man doesn’t think it’s funny. Instead, he reaches out and touches the side of Steve’s face, gently stroking it with soft fingertips. Steve feels goosebumps on his skin, his heart beat fast. He wonders, suddenly, if this man is going to kill him. He knows stories about sirens and mermaids, but he always cast them aside as fairy tales. If this isn’t some kind of illusion, then the fairy tales are true.

And Steve gets the feeling that Hans Christian Andersen wouldn’t know the ending of his.

“Can you breathe?” the man asks as he drops his hand back to his side. He floats slightly away from Steve.

Steve nods. “I can,” he says. “Is it because of you?” he asks, because if it is, then there wouldn’t be a reason for him to kill Steve now.

The man looks at Steve, searching. After what feels like too long, he nods, slowly. “You were… drowning. I kissed you. I…” He looks away, blue eyes wide. “I saved you. I don’t know why.”

“Thank you,” Steve says. The man’s looks up at him, something suddenly vulnerable in his expression. “For saving me.”

“Who are you?” he asks again, softer, maybe a little desperate. “Why did I save you?”

“I… I don’t know,” Steve says. Something pulls at his consciousness, a detail he feels like he’s forgetting.

They look at each other for a few moments. Steve wants to stroke the merman’s face like he touched his, to see what that pearly skin feels like beneath his fingertips, or to run his hands over his sparkling tail.

“I can take you to the surface,” the man says. “Or I could show you the water.”

“I…” Steve begins. Logically, he knows he should return to the surface as soon as he can. His crew will be looking for him, and he has no idea how much time has passed since he drowned. Minutes ago all he wanted was his home, the beach, safety. But looking into the depthless eyes of the merman in front of him, Steve could almost sink deeper.

He wonders, passingly, whether the merman would kiss him again.

The merman holds his hand out for Steve, palm up. His fingers reflect the light, they glow.

Steve takes his hand.

**…**

The merman’s grip is tight as they swim through the sea. He moves swiftly, but somehow Steve doesn’t feel it, or get whiplash. He glides smoothly as he holds the merman’s hand, able to marvel at what he sees: a squid spewing ink as it escapes a small shark’s jaws, waving plants with yellow eyes peeping through, a school of fish so huge moving aside for the two of them as they pass through. The merman stops next to an underwater waterfall, great and rolling.

“Beautiful,” Steve says, quiet.

“Beautiful,” the man echoes. Steve looks over to see the man looking at him, lips downturned. He looks somewhere between reverent and sad — it’s the most human Steve has seen him look since they met.

“Were you born down here?” Steve asks.

The man pauses, thoughtful, then shakes his head. “I was once a human,” he adds, softer, “I was once like you.”

“How did you end up here?” Steve asks.

“I was forced,” he says, “Taken from the surface.”

“Can you go back?” Steve asks.

The man turns back to the waterfall and watches it silently. A long time passes before he says, “I have never tried.”

They watch the waterfall a little longer. “You will return,” the merman says. “I will not force you to stay.”

“Like you were?” Steve asks.

The man nods. “Like I was.”

Then all at once there is movement. Steve feels something pull at him, try to drag him away, and he screams. There is swift blurring movement around him, and Steve feels tugged and sick. Finally things slow, and the merman has a tight grip on his arm, pulling Steve behind him. He’s hissing at another merman, low and vicious. “He’s mine,” he says, in a guttural, dark voice that Steve hasn’t heard from him before.

The other merman chuckles in response. “Sure he is,” the merman says. “But where are his fins?”

While his merman is icy but welcoming, this man makes Steve want to run. His skin has a reddish finish to it, fiery where his merman is pearly. His eyes are black as coal, and match his short hair. His physic is chiseled and hard. His red tail looks like flames as it swishes through the water.

His merman looks tense, and Steve feels fear for the first time since he opened his eyes beneath the surface.

“Leave,” his merman hisses. “He is my business.”

“Is he, _James_?” the man sneers, and his merman — James — hisses again.

James.

Steve looks at James.

He sees blue eyes, a cleft chin. He hears the slight Irish lilt. He sees—

“Leave us be, _Brock_ ,” James hisses, and the man flinches, eyes closed like he’s been hit. Steve would smile, but when the man opens his dark eyes again, he looks directly at Steve.

“Tell him to kiss you,” he says. “You want it, don’t you? Ask him to—“

“Enough,” James interrupts, cold and authoritative. “I will return in time. Leave us now.”

The man looks back at James. “That’s all I wanted to hear,” he says before he swims away.

They stay in silence a few moments, watching Brock leave. James lets go of Steve’s arm.

“You should return—“ James starts, but Steve interrupts.

“You’re Bucky Barnes,” Steve says, voice wavering.

The merman looks down. “Who the hell is Bucky?” he asks, quiet and defeated.

“He was my friend,” Steve says, “My best friend. My…” He trails off, unsure whether he should continue. He clears hist throat. “He drowned ten years ago.” Steve reaches out slow, half expecting Bucky to flinch, to move away from his touch. But he doesn’t; Bucky just stays ghostly still as Steve runs his fingers across his features. Steve recognizes the now familiar face, traces the ridge of his nose and the high cheekbones. He even reaches out to touch Bucky’s floating hair. It’s soft on his fingers. Bucky just looks at him the whole time, sad and quiet. “Bucky,” Steve whispers when he can bring himself to pull away. “What happened to you?”

“I should take you back,” Bucky says. “I’ve already kept you here too long.”

“No,” Steve says. “Keep me here with you.”

“You were made for the light,” Bucky responds.

Steve takes a breath. “I was made to be wherever you are,” he admits. “Because I didn’t know who you are, but it only took a second, Buck, only a second for me to lo—“

“Stop,” Bucky says, gentle. “I’m not that person anymore.”

“But you saved me,” Steve says. “I was drowning and you saved me.”

“I kept an eye on you. I didn’t know why.” He looks down, and Steve realizes that he doesn’t blink. He hasn’t blinked the whole time they’ve been together. Steve wonders if he can close his eyes, if he can sleep. He suddenly has a thousand questions, and only one certainty.

“Because you love me,” Steve says. Bucky looks up again. “And I love you.”

“Ten years is a long time for a human. You love a memory.”

“I do,” Steve admits. “But now I can love you as you are today. Just let me stay.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I will not.”

“Please,” Steve begs, voice breaking.

“No,” Bucky repeats. Steve feels his heart breaking. “I will take you to the surface, Steve, and reunite you with your crew. And I…” Bucky’s jaw quivers, “I will watch you from below.”

“Don’t make me go back, Buck. Not after you just found me.”

Bucky holds his hand out. Steve takes it.

Bucky swims up to the surface slowly. Things happen alongside them as they go, but Steve keeps his eyes trained on Bucky. The majesty of the water seems dull in comparison to the man in front of him. Too soon, the light gets brighter. Steve knows they’re near the surface.

“When you resurface, you will not be able to breathe down here any longer,” Bucky says.

“Will I see you again?” Steve asks. He doesn’t give a damn about the details; he just wants Bucky, only Bucky.

Bucky allows himself a small smile. “Perhaps,” he says.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks. “If I can’t be with you, can I—“

“No,” Bucky interrupts, softly. “If I kiss you again, you’ll be trapped here forever.”

If Steve were a terrible man, he would force himself onto Bucky’s lips. If Steve were a terrible man, he would kiss Bucky until he couldn’t breathe, let the life drain out of him and into Bucky. If Steve were a terrible man, he would stay with Bucky whether he wanted it or not.

But Steve is not a terrible man, and his tears are lost in the water.

“I don’t know how I’ll live knowing that you’re alive,” he admits.

Bucky slowly, gently takes his hand and holds it. His grip isn’t tight, like it was when they swam around. Instead it is gentle, like Steve’s hand is delicate, and worth holding. “Live for me, Steve,” he says. “Live a full life. Feel the warm sun on your skin, others’ warmth on your body. Eat and drink and laugh, Steve. Laugh until your breath gives out, then breathe and laugh again. And…” Bucky’s voice breaks and he pauses, looking down. When he looks up again, his eyes and voice are steady. “And in seventy years, when you are old and frail, and feel like your next breath will be your last, wade into the ocean as far as you can go. I will meet you there and kiss you again, and we can be together. But only then, Steve. Only then.”

Steve’s breath is short. He heaves a sob and the another. Bucky wraps him up in his arms and holds him for a long moment. When he pulls back, Steve feels like he could beg. He could beg Bucky to let him stay, that seventy years is too long. He could say that he would find another merman to turn him into one of them, and that it doesn’t matter what Bucky wants — he will find him.

He doesn’t say any of that. Instead he whispers, “I love you.”

“It will be getting dark soon,” Bucky says. “You should go.”

“You’ll come for me?” he asks.

“In time, my love,” he says, giving Steve a push upwards. The last thing Steve sees before his face breaks the surface are Bucky’s sparkling eyes.

**…**

When the crew finally pulls Steve on board he feels heavy, soaked. “Steve!” Natasha cries, running across the deck of the ship to where Steve is. In a rare moment of affection, she drops to her knees and pulls him in for a brief hug. “I thought you were dead.”

“Me too,” Steve admits as she pulls away, looking at him seriously.

“You were gone for hours.”

“I know.”

“How did you survive?”

“A miracle,” he says, eyes misty. “A miracle.”


	2. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve calls Bucky's name as he drowns, and they meet again.
> 
> Twenty years have passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write more of this fic. Be forewarned: the next two chapters have a lot of feelings.

There’s a moment, a dreadful moment, where Steve is sure that he’s miscalculated.

He feels water rush into his lungs, and he struggles towards the surface, limbs flailing uselessly. Sinking deeper, he strains his eyes, trying to find the light again.

He can’t see it.

As he gives up the struggle, he does the last thing he can think of.

“Bucky,” he says, letting water rush into his open mouth as he sinks lower, ever lower.

**…**

“I told you to wait,” Bucky says, holding Steve with one arm, pulling him along as he swims.

Steve blinks a few times, taking Bucky in, resisting the urge to burrow close.

He’d be afraid that Bucky is angry with him, except he can see the small beginnings of a smile on his plush lips.

“It’s good to see you again,” Steve says.

Bucky glances back at him. “You were pulled, weren’t you?”

“What?” Steve asks.

Bucky stops swimming, holds onto Steve’s arms with both of his hands. The scars on his pale chest shine in the murky water. “You were pulled underneath the water.” His tone is grave, any trace of his early smile gone now. Steve wants him to change the subject, to make him smile again.

Instead, he nods. “I had my feet dangling over the edge of the boat,” he says, “and I felt something tug.”

Bucky’s nostrils flare. “I won’t let them harm you.”

“Who?” Steve asks. “Brock?” he adds, remembering the other merman they came across.

Bucky glances down. “He’s spiteful, jealous. He’s been in the water for too long, and doesn’t remember what it was like to be warm, to be…” He trails off, looking back at Steve, reaching up and softly touching the skin by Steve’s eye. He has crows feet there, he knows it. Steve thinks about his skin showing the passage of time whenever he sees his reflection.

He’s covered all the mirrors in his home. He doesn’t want to think of his body growing frailer while Bucky remains the same.

“How long?” Bucky asks.

“Twenty years,” Steve says.

Bucky’s expression changes, becomes softer. He pulls himself closer to Steve. “I won’t let them harm you,” he whispers, “and one day you’ll come back to me.”

Steve doesn’t argue, just rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder. They float there, the quiet water surrounding them, Bucky’s tail keeping them together and afloat. It’s powerful, beautiful as it makes its way back and forth through the darkness. Steve wonders what his tail would look like.

Probably like Bucky’s, he decides. They share the same heart.

“I should return you to the surface,” Bucky says.

Steve closes his eyes, squeezes them tight, trying to memorize this moment, this feeling of wholeness that he only feels beneath the water.

Only feels with Bucky.

“Next time,” Steve finds himself saying, “will be the time I stay.”

“Will it?” Bucky asks, voice soft, filled with longing.

“Yes,” Steve decides. “I’m done sailing now. I’ve had my share of the surf. I’ll retire, live next to the ocean. I’ll live, soak up enough light for the both of us. Then when I’m ready…”

“I’ll come for you,” Bucky says.

“I don’t long know how long that will be,” Steve says.

“I’ll wait,” Bucky says, moving his arm to Steve’s hip, gripping him tight.

“I don’t know how I’ll look.”

“I will love you, regardless.”

Steve all but collapses onto Bucky, shoulders shaking. Bucky strokes his hair, runs his hands up and down Steve’s back, like he’s trying to memorize this feeling, the same as Steve had done moments before.

“Don’t fall into darkness,” Steve says, regaining his composure.

“I won’t,” Bucky promises, looking up at Steve. His eyes are wide, almost vulnerable, lips parted.

It would be so easy to kiss him.

“Let’s go,” Steve says, instead.

**…**

When he breaks the surface, gasping for breath, he has just enough time to look down and see the whirl of a black and silver tail swimming away.


	3. The Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wades into the water for a final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end note for potential triggers.

The morning Steve’s doctor stops prescribing medicine and hugs him instead is the morning Steve knows that it’s time.

He doesn’t spend time on goodbyes. So many of the people he once knew are gone now, and he knows it would be best not to trouble those who are left. He spends the rest of the morning tidying up his home — making the bed, sweeping up. It takes him more time than it used to. He moves slower now. He’s moved slower for a while, now.

The few things that matter to him — his compass, a piece of his sail, some letters, a photograph of him and a boy who drowned so many years ago — get boxed up and left on the table, along with a note. Sharon will be coming to check on him in the morning. She’ll know what to do with the things he’s left behind.

He eats a simple meal. He doesn’t get the same enjoyment out of food as he once did, but he knows that he’ll need something to get through the day. When he’s done, he washes his dishes and lays them out to dry.

When he hears the church bells chime twelve times, he swallows hard. Steve goes to his room a final time, slowly changes into a worn, soft pair of pants, a pair of smooth leather sandals, and a loose, white shirt. It used to feel tight on his fit frame, but as the years went by it became loose, comfortable. Now, it near engulfs him.

He hasn’t looked in a mirror in a very long time. He doesn’t want to, now.

He takes a folded blanket from his bedroom and leaves the house, closing the door behind him. Steve does not stop to look at his mantelpiece, or the art on his walls. He pulls his house key from his pocket and locks the door, shutting his eyes when he hears it click a final time. Instead of slipping it back into his pocket, he walks to the side of his house. He lifts up a thick pot, and rests the key next to the other spare that Sharon usually uses. He hopes that it will be a sign. She knows that it’s been a long time coming.

It’s a short walk to the beach; he’s never wanted to live far from the ocean. The air is cool and crisp, but the sun shines bright. When he looks across the expanse of the beach he can see two boys playing in the distance. He hears one laugh, and it could almost be his own childhood voice.

He lays his blanket out on the sand and lays down on top of it. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the warmth of the sun, the sounds of the ocean and the seagulls. He lays for hours, soaking in the life of the beach, and the home he’s always known.

Time passes, as it always does. There are aches and pains in Steve’s body, but he ignores them as best he can. Soon, he knows, they won’t matter any longer. For so long he had taken them as proof that he was alive, a step towards what he knows is the next step of his existence. But lately, his deteriorating body _became_ his life. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling — he has understood illness since birth — but he had forgotten how hard it is to live every day in pain.

But he had kept living. He had made a promise.

He doesn’t fall asleep, but he isn’t quite awake. Rather, his mind wanders, thinking of the years. He thinks of his childhood, his mother in a white dress standing with her feet in the surf. He thinks of his friend, of his bright eyes, white smile and dimpled chin, and how his touch felt like love. Steve remembers his crew — of Clint’s calloused hands, of Natasha’s fierce bravery, and of Sam’s warm embrace. Memories of Peggy come and go — her smile, her mind, her body — and of late nights together, giggling at silly nothings, and confessing their secrets to one another.

Except, him.

Steve never confessed him.

He lets himself feel for a time, to let himself understand what he’s giving up. The friends, the laughter, the ending that he is supposed to have. Death seems easier, now that he has to make a choice. He has lived for so long that the thought of starting again scares him more than the thought of eternal sleep.

But he remembers Bucky.

And when he does, he stands up again.

It’s sunset now, and Steve knows that it’s time.

He folds the blanket, walks it farther away from the water and sets it down. He slips his sandals off and places them on top of the blanket, hoping that someone will discover them and find some use for them.

Even sandals, he thinks, deserve a second chance at life.

He turns and faces the water. The Atlantic is rolling and blue, stopping for no one. It is a perfect sunset, pink and orange, shining off of the surface of the sea. It’s that sunset that he walks towards, bare feet leaving imprints in the wet sand. His heart begins to race when he first touches water — it’s been so long since he’s had to swim. He’s not sure that his fragile legs will carry him.

But he carries on — ankle deep, knee deep, waist deep, chest deep.

When the water comes up to his chin he pauses, looks up at the sky once again. It’s a cloudless night, the sky warm and inviting in front of him, night encroaching behind. He shuts his eyes and lets several waves pass him by.

He takes a breath and steps forward. A wave goes over his head, and he is submerged.

**…**

When he feels a gentle pressure on his lips, he opens his eyes again.

**…**

Bucky is the same.

“Hello,” he says, almost shy after so long.

“Steve,” Bucky says, smiling, really smiling.

Steve smiles back, doubt flushed from his mind.

“I lived for you,” he says.

“I see that,” Bucky says, looking him over.

For a moment, Steve wants to hide. Time has changed him, and he doesn’t know what Bucky — timelessly beautiful — will think. But then he remembers that this is Bucky, his Bucky, and he stands as straight as he can, his weak body pushed back and forth by the current.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky says.

“I’m old,” Steve responds, and Bucky chuckles.

“That’s beautiful,” he says, reaching out and taking Steve’s wrinkled hand in his. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, staring at Steve’s hand, brushing over his skin with his smooth fingers.

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

Bucky looks up again. “Same,” he says, quietly.

“I’m ready now.” Bucky looks at his hand again. “I’ve waited long enough, and I’m running out of time.”

“Things will never be the same,” Bucky says. “You’ll change.”

“I know.”

Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand. “Only if you’re ready,” he says, “and you never have to be.”

Steve takes a step closer to Bucky, then another. “I’m ready,” he whispers, before pressing his chapped lips to Bucky’s. He smiles into the kiss, and can feel Bucky smiling, too.

**…**

The water swirls around them, moving faster and faster. Steve holds onto Bucky’s hand as hard as he can, fearful that he’ll lose his grip, and they’ll be separated again. “Let go,” Bucky says. Steve stares at him with wide eyes. “Trust me.”

He lets go.

**…**

When the water stills, Steve feels different. He’s larger, his posture straight again. He feels thick hair on his head, muscles like he had in his youth. When he opens his eyes, he takes in a different world. The water seems sharp, the light bouncing off of everything in sight. He can see the currents, can understand the way the water moves, and what it will do next. Steve never knew that the water has a voice, but now he can hear its faint hum.

He turns to find Bucky, and he feels his tail move for the first time.

Bucky stares at him, wide-eyed. “Steve,” he says, near-breathless.

“Is this alright?” Steve asks, unsure now, of where they stand.

Bucky nods. “It’s just…” he says, and Steve’s heart sinks. “Steve, you _shine_.”

Steve looks down at himself. His tail is mostly pearlescent white, with patches of deep blue and soft red scales mixed in. But there is something strange about his tail. It’s not fiery, like Brock’s, nor is it mysterious like Bucky’s. It’s bright, and it glows in a way that makes the water feel warm around it.

He looks back up at Bucky.

Bucky grins, breath shallow. “I never thought we’d…” he starts, but is cut off by his own sob.

He can’t cry, Steve realizes. They’re underwater.

He laughs at his own silly observation before swimming to Bucky as fast as he can. Steve wraps his arms around him, pulling him close and whirling the two of them around as he swims. Bucky laughs and hollers, Steve grins, steering them wherever he chooses. When they’re far from the shore, far enough from the surface that the memories of what it was like begin to fade, he stops, holding Bucky close to him.

“I’m glad you waited,” Bucky says.

Steve nods. “Me too.”

“I wanted you to live,” Bucky says, “but I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” Steve repeats, pulling Bucky in close.

They kiss, tails gently brushing up against each other’s as they float.

When they part, Steve rests his forehead against Bucky’s, arms wrapped around Bucky’s chest.

“Let’s live again,” Steve says. “Let’s make a life here.”

Bucky says, “Yes.”

And they kiss again. They don’t know for how long, but it doesn’t matter now.

They’ll have time now. They’ll have forever.

**…**

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential triggers: talk about death, talk about aging, talk about illness.
> 
> Anyhow, that's that. If you see any mistakes lemme know. I wrote these two chapters in about two hours and decided to post them immediately because I didn't want to sit on them, and also I need to go to sleep because I have to be up early.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. As always, catch me at whtaft.tumblr.com.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, consider following me at [whtaft](whtaft.tumblr.com) or reblogging [this graphic](http://whtaft.tumblr.com/post/173811820264/the-arms-of-the-ocean-are-carrying-me-youre) on Tumblr!


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